Strong Magic
by mum-to-you
Summary: Ron Weasley discovers some surprising things about his parents he never understood before. In the process, he finally grows up a little bit and makes some decisions about a certain girl he fancies. Rating is for language only. Arthur swears rather a lot.


Ron Weasley had never seen his father so angry. Not even when Fred and George had given Dudley Dursley that Ton-Tongue Toffee. Not even when he himself had nicked his dad's wand and accidentally magicked Ginny up into the top of a tall tree and then misplaced the wand.

But tonight Ron thought his dad must look like what Harry said Dumbledore looked like at the Ministry last spring. He definitely wasn't angry in his usual blustering, uncomfortable manner, the manner of a man who really doesn't like being angry. Ron could almost see the fury emanating from his father in waves as he swooped down on little Mundungus Fletcher with his wand in Dung's face, looking about nine feet tall. Looking for all the world like a very powerful wizard.

Dad's voice had gone all quiet, and there was a hint of steel in it that Ron couldn't remember ever hearing. "You mean to tell me you left my wife in the middle of Muggle London, when you were supposed to be there to keep her safe?"

"I had to see a man about . . . really, it was a once in a lifetime opp--" Mundungus stopped abruptly as red and gold sparks shot spontaneously of Arthur's wand in a weird shape that looked sort of like a dragon. "Really, Arthur, she knows what she's about. She'll be fine--" He gave Arthur a lopsided and sheepish grin, but saw it wasn't working and dropped his eyes to the floor.

Arthur's voice lowered to a feral growl. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me exactly where you left her."

Mundungus cowered. "I . . . I . . . don't exactly know."

"You . . . worthless . . . bastard," Arthur spat out. He turned on his heel and stalked over to the writing desk to get a quill and some parchment to send an owl. Ron gaped at him as he went past.

"Sorry, Arthur. Really." Mundungus was practically kowtowing. "Kingsley will find her, safe and sound."

Arthur looked up from his task with a glare. "You'd better hope so. Now get out of my sight." His eyes went back to his work, where he scribbled furiously. Mundungus took advantage of the opportunity to slink out of Order headquarters.

Ron didn't know what to think. "Erm, Dad?" he ventured cautiously, "About Mum. She's alright, isn't she?"

"Not now, Ron," Arthur snapped. Then he took off his glasses and rubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. He looked up apologetically at Ron, who was sitting on the settee looking thunderstruck and pale. "I'm sorry, son. I wish I could answer your question."

"You mean--"

"I don't know, Ron. I just don't know."

Ron swallowed thickly and nodded. He watched as his father replaced his glasses and stood up. After dispatching Errol with the message, Arthur began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Ron couldn't think of anything to do or say, so he just sat, thinking.

Mostly he wondered exactly when his life had got so topsy-turvy. Mum was on some sort of mission for the Order, one that was obviously risky. Dad was acting like, well, like he was in charge of the whole thing. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Mum was supposed to be at home cooking or knitting things. That's what she did. And Dad. He was supposed to be jolly and joking and sort of clueless. What Ron was witnessing tonight frankly unsettled him. It was as if aliens had possessed his parents, and he had a grim suspicion it was going to get worse before it got better. He studied his father carefully as he stopped in front of a window and peered out. There was something that he had never seen in his dad's face before: despair. It chilled him, and he suddenly became very afraid and amended his thought to "if_ it got better."_

Ron's reverie was interrupted when the parlor door burst open, and Kingsley Shacklebolt strode in, carrying what looked like a bundle of robes. Looking closer, Ron realized that the bundle had red hair. It was Mum. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a croak.

Arthur was already across the room. As he took Molly from Kingsley, the movement caused her body to begin convulsing violently, and it was all Arthur could do to hold on to her. He looked up at Shacklebolt, serious, and asked, "She's been doing this?"

Kingsley nodded, "On and off for an hour or more."

Arthur murmured something that sounded like either "_Cruciatus_" or "shit" to Ron. Maybe both. He motioned for Ron to get up and laid Molly down on the settee. After a moment, she calmed, but when Arthur brushed the auburn hair off her face, the seizures began again. He looked back up at Kingsley with a questioning look.

Kingsley replied tersely, "Dolohov. Ambush. He was waiting for her."

Arthur blanched visibly, even in the dim light, and this did absolutely nothing to reassure Ron, who was nervously hopping from one foot to the other, wishing there were something he could do. Dad would obviously have to get Mum to the hospital. Then, to his utter astonishment, Arthur simply picked up his wand, pointed it straight at his wife, and said quietly, "_Finite Cruciatus_." The seizure stopped immediately, but Molly didn't wake.

"Let her sleep for a bit," he said finally. Then he looked up at an obviously surprised Kingsley, who asked, "Where'd you learn that one?"

Arthur just shrugged and replied, "You know me. Made it up."

Ron started, incredulous. "You just 'made it up.' Right now?"

"It's all in the intent, son. The words don't really matter," he said, distracted. His whole attention seemed to be on making sure Molly was still breathing. Ron just stared at his dad as if he'd never seen him before in his life, and he began to suspect that, in some way, that might be true.

After few minutes, Arthur looked up at Kingsley and asked simply, "What the hell happened? She was just supposed to pick up the documents. It was supposed to be easy."

Kingsley looked at his old friend with concern. "Arthur, you both knew there was a chance--"

"What happened, dammit?" Arthur insisted.

Kingsley shrugged. "As I said, an ambush. They knew where and when, and obviously, who. I'm pretty sure they got the stuff. I got there after it was over and found her. The papers weren't anywhere around. I saw Dolohov, but before I could do much of anything, he was gone. Arthur, I swear I got here as fast as I could. I couldn't Apparate with her."

Arthur sighed, "I know, Kingsley. And thank you. You've done more than enough." After a pause he muttered, "Dolohov. That bloody fucking figures." He shook his head soberly.

"Erm, Dad?" put in Ron, "That guy was at the Ministry, you know, when . . . last spring--why would he be waiting for _Mum?_"

Arthur smiled sardonically and raised an eyebrow. All he said was, "She's a Prewett."

Something clicked in Ron's memory. "Then he's the one who killed Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon, isn't he?. Bloody hell." Arthur didn't even bother to mention Ron's language. He was watching Molly.

He took a deep breath and said, "Well, we'd best get on with it." He picked up his wand and walked over to his wife. With a quick flick of his wrist, he said, "_Enervate_." Molly took a deep breath, shuddered slightly, and opened her eyes.

Immediately, Arthur knelt down and began to stroke her hair. He smiled at her and said, "Rough night, then, love?"

She shuddered again and said vaguely, "What happened? I just remember--" She closed her eyes again and continued weakly, "Such pain."

Arthur swallowed hard and picked up her hand and kissed it. "I know, Molly, but you're safe now."

"It was Dolohov, Arthur. He knew I would be there. Who would have told--"

Arthur grimaced, "I don't know, love. But I mean to find out." He took both of her hands in his, pulled her up to a sitting position. He walked over to the table, poured a healthy slug of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey into a glass, and handed it to her. She just shook her head and waved it away, but he insisted, "Molly, drink it."

She frowned, but took the glass. She stared at it for a few moments, then said, "What the hell." She drank the whiskey in one gulp, pulled a face, and slammed the glass down on the table.

Arthur poured another and handed the glass back to her. She started to protest again, but saw he was determined and drank it off. She grimaced at the taste and said, "No more."

He nodded, sat down next to her, and pulled her into a tight embrace. Kingsley cleared his throat and excused himself. "I need to get going. Not much more to add anyway."

Arthur looked up at him and just said, "Thank you, Kingsley." Ron had the distinct impression that more was communicated between the two men than the words implied.

Shacklebolt just grinned and added, "You've pulled my arse out the fire enough times, mate. That's what friends are for." With a wry smile, Arthur nodded. Kingsley left after placing his hand on Arthur's shoulder for a moment and giving Molly a wink. Then Arthur turned his attention back to Molly.

At first Ron thought his mother was beginning to have convulsions again, but when she murmured, "Merlin, I'm freezing," he was relieved to know she was just shivering. His dad gathered her in his arms and managed to move them both around so that they were lying together on the settee with his arms wrapped around her. With a distracted flick of his wand, he muttered, "Accio!" All manner of items from all over the house began flying into the room and arranging themselves in an orderly manner: tea things, pillows, blankets, mum's dressing gown and slippers. Even the firewhiskey flew from the table across the room and settled itself on the tea table.

Ron was impressed and inched a little closer to his parents. "Erm, Dad? You just summoned a bunch of stuff from everywhere with one charm."

Arthur looked up as if surprised to find Ron still there. "What? Oh, yes, I suppose I did." He busied himself tucking a blanket tightly around his wife.

Molly giggled into Arthur's chest as if all the firewhiskey was starting to hit her, and then she turned her head to look at Ron. "That's nothing. He specializes on charmed staircases in dormitories, too." Then she snuggled up to her husband with a contented sigh.

"Hush, Molly." Arthur smiled down at her, but Ron noticed his ears had turned rather pink.

"The staircase? What--" Then he remembered the day he and Harry had tried to get into the girls' dormitory to talk to Hermione. "Oh, Merlin," he muttered, "Yeah, that'd be right handy, I guess." He gave up on this line of conversation and sat down at the desk, fiddling idly with the quill and inkstand.

When he looked back over to his parents, a looked of mingled horror and curiosity crept over his face. His dad was kissing on his mum in a very, erm, thorough manner. "_Nope_," he thought, "_that's not kissing. That's outright snogging, that is. Tongues and everything. Bloody hell, he's taking out her tonsils._" He glanced away uncomfortably for a minute, but his eyes were irresistibly drawn back. It was disgusting, yet strangely fascinating. And they were right there out in the open, after all! So he looked again, and he wasn't at all put at ease by the sight. His mum's hand had crept up under Dad's jumper, and his hand was sliding down her back. "_Oh, good grief!_" he thought and he turned away abruptly.

To his great relief, the door to the parlor opened. It was Dumbledore, and close on his heels was Madame Pomfrey. Ron had never been so happy to see her in his life. Mum would be okay, and Dad would get up off the sofa away from her, and everything would be normal again. Dumbledore just winked at him and sat down in a squashy armchair near the fire. His long fingers were steepled, and he just sat there quietly, waiting.

Madame Pomfrey bustled over and jabbed her wand at the fireplace. The fire that was already burning steadily in the hearth grew to immense proportions, and the room became almost unbearably warm. She turned briskly and looked at Arthur. "Cruciatus Curse, I assume you're thinking? Loss of consciousness? Convulsions?" Arthur nodded.

"Keep her warm and get some whiskey in her then. But you know that, right?"

Molly giggled. "I think he's trying to get me rat-arsed so he can take advantage of me later. Arthur, you know you don't have to that!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Ron. Ron's eyes did not twinkle back. Arthur's ears went very red. Madame Pomfrey just tutted and said, "Excellent, Arthur. That's exactly what she needs." Then she looked up, dead-pan, and added, "The whiskey, I mean."

Madame Pomfrey took Molly's pulse and generally checked her over while Arthur reported to Dumbledore what Kingsley had said. Ron wished his dad had gotten up off the settee to do that, but he hadn't. He just lay there, holding on to his mum for dear life. After a moment, Madame Pomfrey declared, "She'll be just fine. I'd estimate . . . Dolohov, you said? . . . was only able to maintain the curse for fifteen or twenty minutes. Hellish experience, but not long enough for any permanent damage. She'll be twitchy for a day or so, but she's tough, she is. I'll check back tomorrow to see how things are."

"Thank you, Poppy," Arthur said.

"Keep her good and rat-arsed for a few hours." With the tiniest twitch of her lips, she bustled out of the room. Ron wondered if all the adults in his life had gone mental.

"_Only _fifteen or twenty minutes." Arthur shuddered and held Molly tightly. "Christ on a bike, Molly." He looked over at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.

"Tough indeed," Dumbledore commented. He gazed over at Arthur and asked, "So what now?"

Arthur was decisive. "First off, Mundungus Fletcher works alone from here on out. That's twice he's skived off and we've had someone nearly killed because of it. He's useful, and I don't think he's the spy, but he's only worth anything if he has to look after his own skin, which seems to be unaccountably precious to him."

"Agreed."

"And second." He kissed Molly on the temple before continuing. "This one works only with me or you don't use her at all."

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully before nodding and saying, "Also agreed."

Molly stirred and looked up at her husband. "But, Arthur, we've talked about this. Until the children--"

"The children _are_ all but grown, Molly. No arguments."

Then, as far as Ron was concerned, the most surprising thing he'd seen in a long time happened. His mum just put her head back down and said, "All right." After a moment or two, Ron thought she might be beginning to doze off at last.

Dumbledore and his dad discussed briefly what to do about the missing documents. They mentioned something about maps, floor plans, or something, but Ron wasn't really listening. He was more amazed by the fact that it seemed to be a conversation between two, well, colleagues or equals. Then Molly surprised them all by announcing. "But I've _got_ the papers!"

Dumbledore stood up swiftly. "What?" he asked, "You've got them?"

Molly rolled over away from her husband and looked up at Dumbledore before saying, "Of course, I do."

Arthur began to chortle. "Mollywobbles, you are amazing."

Dumbledore also chuckled. "And how is it Dolohov was not able to find them, while he had you, erm, incapacitated for so long?"

Molly just looked bewildered and not a little bleary-eyed. "I don't know really. I stuffed them down my knickers, where any woman would hide things. Do you suppose he didn't think to look there?"

Arthur burst out laughing and covered his eyes with his hand. "Yes, I would imagine, love, that he didn't think to look there." Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Much to Ron's consternation, his dad began rooting around inside his mum's robes while she giggled madly. Eventually, he came up with a very rumply-looking packet of parchment and handed it to Dumbledore with a smile.

"Very resourceful, Molly. Very resourceful indeed." Dumbledore turned to Ron and said, "If you would be so good, Mr. Weasley. Send this packet to Professor Snape at Hogwarts." With a twinkle in his eye, he continued, "Under no circumstances, of course, should you mention to Severus where exactly we found the documents."

Ron grinned and started to say that their owl was delivering a letter already, but there was a soft hoot, and he noticed that Errol had flown in and was sitting on the desk by the window. He tied the package firmly to Errol's leg and sent him off. He lingered by the window, watching him fly off unsteadily.

"A faithful creature, if infirm and inefficient. But there is a strong magic in faithfulness, Mr. Weasley." Startled, Ron realized that Dumbledore was standing next to him, smiling. Ron just nodded. He glanced back over to his parents, who were whispering to each other in a cozy, intimate way. He watched as his dad reached over and poured another glass of firewhiskey and made his mum drink it. For someone who didn't particularly like the stuff, she was sure managing to choke a lot of it down.

Ron laughed at that thought, and then looked up with a bemused look. "Yeah, I think I see what you mean, Professor."

"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Weasley. You look, well, perplexed."

Ron snorted, "Well, all of a sudden, my dad isn't some duffer like I thought, but is instead, I suspect, this really powerful wizard. One who's been swearing like a sailor tonight, I might add. And my mum has turned out to be this brilliant spy for the Order who swills firewhiskey like it's a nice cup of hot tea, and they're snogging on the sofa like a couple of--"

"Like a couple of people who love each other? Who are faithful to each other?"

"Yeah," Ron was pretty sure his brain was about to explode from all the thinking being forced on him.

"Mr. Weasley, you have been very fortunate tonight. I know it might not seem that way to you, but you have had the rare opportunity to see your parents tonight as _people_, and not as parents. Children are very egocentric when comes to their parents, and they tend only to see them in the ways in which they relate to themselves. It's not until they are older, usually parents themselves, that they learn otherwise.

"Remember never to underestimate your parents again. That's another mistake children often make. Arthur is one of the most brilliant Charms students Hogwarts has ever seen. And as for your mother, I'll just say that only one other student besides Professor Snape has ever earned a perfect score on the Potions N.E.W.T."

Ron grew quiet and looked at his parents intently. He smiled crookedly as he watched his dad kiss his mum gently on the forehead.

Dumbledore followed his gaze. "You are looking at what makes your family so strong, Mr. Weasley. It's not the way your parents love and take care of you and your brothers and sister. It's they way they love each other. They've been wise enough to keep that relationship at the center of everything, and once you children are grown up and out, it will still be there for them. It's all about faithfulness, and that what lasts in the long run."

Dumbledore smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "And it's what wins in the long run, Ron. Voldemort's followers are bound together by fear of him and each other and hatred of everyone else. A very weak position to be in. Things that seem weak-- love, concern, helpfulness, even worry. Faithfulness. Those feelings are our true source of power. Voldemort knows nothing of these things, but they are the strongest magic, and I have every confidence they will win in the end. And even if they don't, if we win without them, we've won nothing at all."

Ron just nodded, but could think of nothing to say. When he looked up, Dumbledore was gone. He looked over at his mum and dad. Snogging again. He turned and looked back out the window.

"_I feel like I've aged ten years tonight_," he thought. He chuckled to himself, then realized he was partly serious. He thought about a certain girl he rather fancied and then thought about his parents. He wanted to snog on this girl very, very much and wondered if he would still want to snog on her after they'd been married for almost thirty years. He rather thought he would.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His mum could have been killed tonight, and Merlin only knew what Dad would do if that ever happened. He knew just a little of what Dad might be feeling because he'd experienced something like it himself last spring. They could all be running out of time, and he, Ronald Bilius Weasley, needed to stop being such a prat. When school started, if not sooner, some important conversations were going to occur between him and a certain Gryffindor prefect. And maybe some snogging. He looked over his shoulder at his parents on the settee and said aloud, "Bloody hell." He knew it was going to be strong magic.


End file.
